


Family home

by KAnden



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Anger, Cancer, Dysfunctional Family, Family, Family Issues, Gen, Sad Ending, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 22:58:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19094755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KAnden/pseuds/KAnden
Summary: A story of a family told from the perspective of their home.This is not a good story.





	Family home

**Author's Note:**

> I'm warning you in advance, this story includes suicide, nothing graphic, but the end is full of pain.
> 
> This story is based on real events and stories, but it is in the end, a made up story.

I’ve been standing here in this same place for 29 years. The man who built me, he was in love. In love with a married woman. He built me for himself, for her, for the two of them, and for her children. The daughter was 15 years old, the son was 8. I have seen the happy family move in, and I loved them. The daughter was just getting into high school and the boy was in grade school. Every morning the daughter would wake up early and make herself breakfast, she would then make one for her little brother and pack him some lunch as well. She would take her little brother to school most days, and then go to her’s. Then the parents woke up, sometimes they’d kiss each other good morning and go on about their days. The mother would dress up and go to her office in the institute she and her colleagues founded. The father would stay at home and go to the grocery store if they needed anything and then in the afternoon he would dress up in his uniform suit and pack his suitcase for his next flight. He’d worked in that airline company for about 29 years and was a well respected in-flight manager. For the next few days he will be gone. Sometimes to the united states, New York, Chicago, Florida and so much more. Sometimes to Europe, France, Spain, Italy. And he will always bring something back for his children. Whether it be a dress or shoes or some delicious candy bars they didn’t have in this country. His children loved him and his presents.  
Sometimes the parents would fight, but never in front of the kids. Not after the time their daughter saw him hit his wife many years earlier and then ran out and yelled loudly in the stairwell, “Dad’s hitting mommy! Dad’s hitting mommy!” with tears streaming down her cheeks.  
When the came here their marriage wasn’t happy anymore. I saw them drift apart and then i saw the ugly divorce. I saw the father moving out and the mother transforming one of the rooms downstairs, making it into the clinic she always wanted it to be and treating her patients there.  
I saw the no young girl graduating high school, barely doing the minimum required to get her diploma after her parent’s divorce and i was the son getting into middle school. I was there when the mother got sick, and when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. I was there to see the daughter getting into the army and throwing away all her chances to get into the elite units and special courses just so she could stay close to home and come back every night to take care of her little brother and her sick mother. I was there when she brought her first boyfriend home, and all the nights they spent on the porch. I also remember the big lioness puppet he bought her, Elza. to this day she in still outside on the table, looking in on the house, as if she was guarding it. I saw the mother in her worst states, and i saw the father coming back, making up for everything near the end. It was her last year, and they were back together. She want with the father to his brothers for the holidays and everyone were so glad to see her. It was a happy year for the family, but the year came to an end. The mother passed away, her body giving in to the cancer.  
The father moved in with his children, living in the bedroom of his late ex-wife. The daughter was already finished with her military service and started her adult life. The mother’s clinic started being used as a storage room, as there was no one to use it anymore. The father still wasn’t around much, always being in and out with flights and the daughter followed in his footsteps and became a flight attendant for a few years. All the in flight managers know her and treated her well as they were all old friends with her father and so the years went on. When the daughter was 25 she got pregnant, her boyfriend leaving her a few months later. And the son starting his military service. A few months have passed and the daughter gave birth to a little baby girl. All of her family was there for her, to help her with the baby girl. All except for her mother. The daughter told me once in secret, in the middle of the night, that she felt like her baby was a gift from the mother, watching her from above, as the baby was born exactly 10 days before the birthday of the woman that never became a grandmother.  
I was renovated, another room was added to me, to allow the baby to have her own room when she grew up. The new mother moved in the new room and decorated it in all pastel blue and yellow, pasting Winnie the pooh stickers on all the walls, so her daughter would see them and imagine all the fun adventures they have.  
The years went on and on, and the girl moved into her own room, her mother’s old room, with all the glow in the dark stars glued on the ceiling. I remember the daughter when she was younger, with her boyfriend, standing on the bed and balancing the stars on a broom to glue them to the ceiling. The book shelf over the girl’s bed had a glow in the dark butterfly on it, but nothing else, never being used as an actual shelf.  
I saw the girl growing up, and I saw her hair grow longer, the first time she cut it was in 8th grade, I remember being shocked at first, that the girl I saw every day, with her beautiful long deep brown hair had cut it, her hair now being half it’s previous length, just barely reaching her shoulder blades.  
I saw the girl in her happiest and in her saddest times. In all the times she and her father were in contact, and in all the times she got hurt when he never talked to her for over a month. The worst was after 6 months of them not talking. Her room was filled with books and artworks. Always adding a new drawing to the pile she had.  
I also saw what no one else did. I saw her standing out on the porch and singing. I saw her in her room, crying her heart out when she was sad. I saw her talking to herself, making up stories and characters, making up new friends for herself when she had none. But I also saw the bad things, the knife she kept under the TV, the times she held it to her skin and pressed down, never hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to imagine what would happen if she did. I saw all the shoe laces that she wrapped around her arm while tensing it, just so it will feel tighter and then let go and unwrap it, not wanting to leave any marks. Never wanting her mother to know.  
I saw her sitting on the window sill of the bathroom window, pondering about her life, and how would it feel like, falling from there. I saw her mother finding her up there once, telling her to get back inside and not go up there ever again, and she did as she was told.  
I saw her when her depression got worse, and the times she held the knife grew more and more frequent. I was the only one that saw when wrapping a rope around her arm just the pain on the outside would overcome the one on the inside was almost a daily occurrence, but I couldn’t say anything, couldn’t tell anyone.  
But I also saw her when she got better. I saw her smile, and laugh. I saw her listen to songs and sing along with them. I saw her develop her passion for everything art. Her drawing, her writing, her singing, and she was so beautiful to me.oh how I wanted to tell her how beautiful she was when she sang, how nice her smile was. i wanted to tell her how much I loved her. I watched her grow her entire life, and I loved her so much.  
I saw her write angry letters, telling only me and the paper how she felt, how much she hurt and how much she just wanted to die. She told us of all the times she stood at a window, thinking of jumping out, just falling down. She told us how many times she thought of her funeral. Who would come, what would they think? How would they feel? I saw her screaming silently, just to let her frustrations out, but not startle anyone and make them worry about her. I saw all the nights she stayed up till 5 a.m. and then fall asleep at sunrise.  
Every time she was sad, upset or just feeling a bit down, I wanted to tell her how much I loved her. She brought so much life and light to me the second she was carried through the front door for the first time.  
I saw everything in her life, from the sad parts, to the happy ones, and even just the boring ones. The one thing I didn’t see was the only one I didn’t. The moment when she took her own life. She finally cracked, her imaginary friends no longer being able to comfort her enough anymore. I didn’t see it, she didn’t do this at home. She didn’t want her mother to be the one to find her. If she was doing this, the least she could do was save her that image of finding her daughter lifeless by herself.  
She loved too much and she hurt too much, her feelings always being too strong. And eventually it was too much, and then I couldn’t tell her how much I loved her anymore, because she was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> This was very hard for me to write, a lot of this was based on stories I heard from people I love and care about. Writing this left me with a horrible headache that refused to leave me alone for hours. I hope that if you're experiencing something anything like the girl in this story you seek out help, whether it's from a family member or a professional, never be afraid to ask for help.


End file.
